Centyr Dominance (29 page)

Penny turned, facing her daughter with one brow
arched, “You’ll understand better when this is over. These things don’t go
away. The matter needs to be handled sooner rather than later or it will
become a festering wound.”

“She took three arrows protecting Rennie! Isn’t that
enough?”

“Lilly Tucker is dead,” said Penny. “Do you think he
can just bring her home and marry her? What about her brother, Peter? What
about her fiancée? Do you think they will forget? What about everyone else
living in Castle Cameron, or the town of Washbrook? Should we be allowed to
ignore someone’s crimes if they’re inconvenient for us? Is she above the law
simply because
Sir Gram
happens to be in love with her?”

Moira wanted to slap the superior expression from her
mother’s smug face. “So you’d rather what—hang her?! Do you think Gram will
thank you for that? He won’t stand for it. You’ll lose him, and what about
Lady Hightower? How will she feel when he takes her and turns outlaw?”

Her mother drew a deep breath in before exhaling
slowly, “Do you remember when your father faced trial in Albamarl?”

Moira frowned, wondering where she was heading. She
nodded.

“I felt as you did then, or perhaps as Gram does now.
I knew your father was blameless. A lot of people died, but he wasn’t directly
responsible, and if he hadn’t done what he did things would have been much
worse. He saved the world, and yet they drug him up before their grubby little
court, and they judged him. The men that decided his fate had done nothing to
save us from the catastrophe, but they presumed to mete justice to the man who
had saved us all.

“I was furious, and I tried to convince your father to
run away with me, to take you and your brothers and sister and run far, far
away. But he wouldn’t do it. He had the power, they couldn’t have touched him
if he hadn’t allowed it, but he refused to run. Gram’s mother represented him,
and she could have gotten him off on a technicality, but he wouldn’t allow that
either. Instead, he accepted the charges, and when they decided to humiliate
him,
to whip him like some dog,
he bent his head and took it.

“Have you ever wondered why?” asked Penny.

Moira had heard most of this before, but she had never
thought it was fair. She knew what her father’s answer had been, “He said that
the people had to see that justice applied to the powerful as much as it did to
the weak, but Alyssa isn’t a wizard. She isn’t a lord of the realm. Her
punishment will prove nothing.”

“She has a powerful lover, and
you
are her
friend, and she did commit several very serious crimes,” argued Penny. “You
think I’m trying to drive Gram away? I’m trying to
save
him. If he’s
ever going to live peacefully with that girl she has to face the consequences
of her actions, in court, otherwise the people will never be satisfied. If she
doesn’t, he’ll take her and run eventually anyway. This is their only chance.”

Her heartbeat slowed as confusion replaced her anger.
She had been a hair’s breadth from attempting to change her mother’s mind forcefully.
Moira stared at Penny, thinking carefully before asking, “What are you saying
exactly?”

“That your father was right. If they had actually
tried to execute him, perhaps he would have fled with me then, but he was
determined to give the people justice.”

“But it wasn’t
just
!” exclaimed Moira. “He
didn’t deserve that.”

“True justice is an illusion, but it’s necessary for a
civil society to exist. He understood that, even then, and more importantly,
he knew that for us to live as we do today, the people needed to feel that he
had paid for the crimes they felt he had done. I’ll say it once more, he was
right.
And the same is true now. If Alyssa and Gram are to ever have a chance at
living a normal life as man and wife, then the people harmed by her actions
must feel that justice has been done.” The Countess paused for a moment then
before adding, “Don’t tell your father I said that.”

“Said what?”

“That he was right. The man would be insufferable if
he ever heard me admit it.”

Moira Centyr, the woman who had lived in the heart of
the earth for more than a thousand years, sat in a comfortable chair, watching
the man who had raised her daughter. Technically speaking, she wasn’t the
original Moira Centyr, but rather an artificial copy, a spell-twin made in a
moment of desperation before the first Moira had gone to her final battle with
the Dark God, Balinthor.

The difference was academic at this point, though.
She had a living human body now, thanks to her husband, Gareth Gaelyn, and
while she didn’t possess the living source that most people were born with, she
had been given enough aythar to last any normal person a hundred lifetimes.

The man who had taken that power from the gods and
shared it with her sat across a low table from her, a pensive look on his
face. “You aren’t saying much,” he said, hoping to break her silence.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. What
could she say? The story he had just finished relaying to her was new in some
ways, and depressingly familiar in others. It was her fault. Her only reason
for existing had been to protect the life of her creator’s child, her child,
and she had failed.
Why didn’t I tell her more, sooner?

To speak the truth would be to sign her daughter’s
death warrant, to conceal it would be to risk the lives of countless others.

“I have done you a great disservice,” she said at
last. “I waited too long, and now your daughter, my child, will pay the price
for my error.”

Mordecai frowned, “I was hoping you would have something
a bit more positive.”

A wave of despair swept over her and she fought the
urge to pull at her own hair. Her frustration was so great she wanted to run
screaming from the room. The former lady of stone had a sudden vision of
throwing herself from the tallest tower in the castle, not that it would have
helped. She couldn’t die without permission. “I have nothing good to offer,”
she told him. “I neglected to warn you properly, to warn
her
properly,
and now the seeds of my negligence have borne their wicked fruit.”

“That’s very poetic, but I thought perhaps you could
tell me something more practical, such as, ‘give her some honey at bedtime,
she’ll be fine in the morning’,” he replied sarcastically.

She shook her head, “No, there’s nothing so simple as
that, and nothing more complicated either. She has unwittingly crossed a line,
and now the curse of the Centyr family will fall squarely on her shoulders.
Our daughter is doomed.”

Mort raised one brow, “Doomed?” He had heard that before,
and it was a phrase that he had grown to despise. “Do you know how many times
I have been told that? Yet, still, I am here. I don’t want to hear dramatic phrases;
I want to know what’s going on with my girl so we can figure out how to help
her.”

“She is becoming a demon.”

Mort rubbed his face, “See, that is exactly what I’m
talking about. Could you try to explain without all the descriptive rubbish?
There are no demons, unless you count the gods we so recently deposed.”

“My family called them ‘reavers’ back when there were
more of us. She has broken two of our most fundamental rules.”

“Obviously she did something strange to accomplish
what she did,” agreed Mordecai. “I have never heard of a wizard controlling
thousands of people at once, but I don’t know that I would use a term like
‘reaver’. She didn’t really hurt them, at least not directly.”

“I haven’t examined them myself, but I assure you that
she must have damaged some of them. That isn’t the issue, however, unless
we’re discussing the morality of it,” said Moira.

“Weren’t we?”

She shook her head, “No. There is definitely a moral
problem here, but more important than that, at least for us, is the fact that
she has damaged herself. You described to me the impatience and anger that you
sensed in her, the changes in her personality. Those are significant markers
for the decay of her inner balance. Her mind has been warped and it will only
continue to worsen.”

“I think perhaps you’ve read too much into what I said
earlier…”

“No, Mordecai, let me explain,” interrupted Moira
Centyr. “Much like in the physics you love so much, every action of the mind
has a reaction, a consequence. When a Centyr mage bends the will of another
human being it also exerts a force upon their own mind, twisting its shape.
Your daughter has altered the minds and memories of not just one or two, but
thousands
of people. The inevitable result is that she has distorted her own reality.
What lies inside her now is not the child you raised.”

While her words made perfect sense to him, Mordecai had
his own opinion. He knew better than most how violence and hard choices marked
the soul, but he didn’t believe for a moment that his daughter was beyond
saving. “I can’t accept that. As far as I can tell, she didn’t do most of it
directly, these ‘spell-twins’ that she created did.”

Moira nodded, “And that is the other part of the
problem. Mind cloning is also forbidden.”

“Yet your original did it, and I am glad she did.”

She sighed, “I am not saying that it is an evil act,
or even wrong, but it is dangerous. My progenitor died shortly after, which
saved her from facing the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

“Execution, for one, if the Centyr family had
discovered it. It is a skill that any of us could potentially develop, but
once learned it is impossible to forget. Now that she has done it, it will
always be before her, a ready solution to every problem. Unlike the difficult
task of creating a new and original mind for her spellbeasts she will always be
tempted to simply create a copy of her own mind. It is far faster, and the
result is a creature with all of the original’s powers and abilities, not to
mention a complete understanding of what problem is at hand and what is
needed.”

He coughed, “Nothing you have mentioned makes it sound
like something worth executing someone for. It sounds very handy. If I could
have done that, I could have solved many of my problems over the years.”

“You did experience it, when you became one of the
shiggreth. Your mind-clone, Brexus, was exactly that,” she noted.

“Then I should be executed?”

Moira smiled wryly, “Probably, for a hundred other
reasons, but not that one. You cannot repeat the process, it was accidental.
Moira however, can do it as often as she wishes, more rapidly than you can possibly
imagine.”

Mordecai stood and began pacing, “But she won’t, not
if we can explain to her why she shouldn’t, and you still haven’t explained the
danger.”

“When she did it, she used her twins to control
thousands of people simultaneously, changing their minds and personalities.
Assuming that she reabsorbed those spell-minds afterward, all of their actions
effectively became her own. The pressure that put on her spirit is what
twisted and changed her essence. It made her into a reaver, of that I have no
doubt.”

“What is a reaver?” he asked in exasperation.

“A nightmare,” said Moira Centyr without hesitation,
“a wizard that can invade the minds of others and remake them in moments,
without remorse or regret. A wizard that can duplicate herself many times
over, creating a million such monsters, all just as capable as the original. A
creature of the mind so powerful that no one could defend themselves against
it.”

Mort narrowed his eyes, “Except other wizards, of
course.”

She laughed, “You think so?”

“Are you saying she could do this to me?”

Moira’s face took on a serious expression, “You would
be difficult, but you would lose. If it ever comes to a struggle you must kill
her swiftly, before she breaches your defenses. Once she has crossed over into
your mind she would devour you.”

“Because she’s become this ‘reaver’ you keep talking
about?”

“Any Centyr mage would win, if they could access your
mind, but if they weren’t a reaver before, they would be by the time they
finished. Fortunately, it is difficult for us to force our way in against a
wary opponent, but your daughter has gained a lifetime’s worth of experience
now. She is no longer a novice and her spirit will be harder than steel and
blacker than death.

“She can create endless minions now, and they are not
limited by her aythar if they don’t choose to be. They can steal the souls of
whomever they possess, taking the wellsprings of those they inhabit. They
might not be powerful, but mind magic doesn’t require great strength, it is an
art built on subtlety.

“This has happened before, several times in fact. The
first few were limited and they were destroyed once the danger was realized.
The worst was a man named Lynn Centyr, several hundred years before I was
born. He was discovered quietly altering the minds of a few of his friends.

“Since it was early and he seemed sincere in his
repentance, he was allowed to live. He kept his promise to behave for almost
ten years before he gave in to temptation and changed his wife to make her more
compliant.”

Mort laughed, “Well, honestly, who wouldn’t…”

“This is not a joke!” snapped Moira, losing her
temper. “Knowing he must avoid discovery he began altering more people and
eventually he started making spell-twins to aid him in keeping his secret. It
was years before they suspected what was happening and the first wizards to
investigate had no idea what he had become, for they were not from the Centyr
family.”

“Why didn’t they know?” asked Mort.

“Because my family kept its secrets close. This is
knowledge we have never shared for fear of turning the other families against
us,” she answered. “By the time the Centyr family intervened he had enslaved
an entire village and the two wizards who had initially interfered were his
most potent guardians. My family lost many lives putting an end to him, and
several more had to be destroyed once it was over, for they were forced to
become reavers themselves to win.”

Mordecai walked to the window and stared out at the
trees, watching them bend in the wind. He seemed contemplative, but when he
turned back to her there was determination in his eyes. “Why didn’t Gareth
come with you when I sent my message?”

She looked down, “I didn’t tell him.”

“Because?”

“I was ashamed.”

“Of your family’s curse?”

She shook her head negatively, “No, he would accept
that, but he would never forgive me for what we must do.”

“Murdering my daughter, you mean?” he asked to
clarify, his voice strangely calm.

Silently she nodded.

The Count di’Cameron took a deep breath and held it
for several seconds before expelling the air. A strange look came over him and
he took several long strides toward her, until they stood almost nose to nose.
His eyes burned fiercely as he stared into her eyes, “I have done many terrible
things, but it grows easier each time. Would you like to know the secret?” He
was leaning closer, as though he meant to kiss her cheek.

The stone lady found herself off balance, made
hesitant and unsure by his strangely aggressive manner. She tried to take a
step back, to pull away, but his arms were around her, one at the small of her
back and the other behind her head. She almost yelped in surprise as she felt
his lips beside her ear.

“Let me tell you…,” he said, whispering.

When she heard the words she started to scream, but it
was too late.